Chink in the armour
by candy-belle
Summary: Natasha is upset after a mission, Clint does what he can to comfort her. Deep platonic friendship fic between Natasha and Clint with hinted at Clint/Phil.


**Title:** Chink in the armour  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** Natasha is upset after a mission, Clint does what he can to comfort her  
**Featuring:** Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Phil Coulson hinted at Clint Barton/Phil Coulson,  
**Genre/**warnings: angst, deep platonic friendship, hurt/comfort

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters of Marvel Movies. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.

**Notes:** Another Tasha/Clint friendship fic, love playing with this aspect of their dymanic. Anyway, as always this is unbeta'd so any mistakes you find, please, please, please forgive (I mean it PLEASE!)

**On to the story….**

"Tasha?" called Clint as he knocked lightly on the locked door.

He wasn't really surprised there was no answer. He hadn't honestly expected one. Natasha had been strangely quiet ever since the mission had ended and as soon as the debrief had been completed she had disappeared without a word. He risked knocking again and leaning his head against the door he called, "I ran you bath. It's got those weird crystals in it that you like and," he gave a little chuckle adding, "And I told everyone to stay away from you from until at least tomorrow morning." He paused, wondering whether he should go on. After what seemed an age he closed his eyes and pressing his hand flat against the closed door he murmured, "You know where I am if you need me."

There was still no reply and no sound of movement from within Natasha's quarter. With a sad sigh Clint turned away and headed for his own quarters. He was reaching for throat mic when he heard the door click open behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, a cocky grin starting to appear, although it faded the moment he saw Natasha's face. She looked pale and her eyes were rimmed red as if she'd been crying. Frowning he turned on his heel and was back at her side in a moment, worry and concern written all over his face. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he'd seen Natasha cry. Without thinking he reached out to thumb away the tears, only for the still-silent Black Widow to step back away from his reach.

Letting his hand fall away he asked hesitantly, "What's wrong? What happened?" His comm until had malfunctioned towards the end of the mission. He'd heard Coulson's order to take the shot when he could but then there had been nothing but static in his ear. So he had no idea what had transpired between Natasha and the mark before his bullet had found a new home in the man's skull. But looking at Natasha's face he suddenly had a worried feeling in the pit of his stomach that they had all missed something during the closing moments of the mission.

Wary eyes stared at him then taking a deep breath, as if she was pulling herself together, Natasha murmured bitterly, "He called me a whore. Just before you shot hm. He…he called me a wh…" her voice broke and she turned away hiding her face from Clint.

Clint felt his blood turned cold. He knew what that word did to her. As long as he had known her that single word could floor her quicker than any physical weapon. He had no idea why the word had such an affect but he had a very strong suspicion it was a left over from her training in the Red Room and he hated that it could still reduce her to such a miserable wreck. Without speaking he reach out, gently turning her back around, before wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her close. She struggled at first, delicate but deadly hands pressing against his chest, trying to get away but Clint stayed wrapped around her, he knew the drill. He knew in a few moments she would stop fighting him and let him comfort her. It didn't happen very often but when it did Clint was always ready with a hug.

Slowly Natasha stopped fighting, finally giving in to the need to take the offered comfort. Clint smiled faintly as he felt her arms loops around his waist, her hands resting on the small of his back. It was probably the least sexual embrace possible, her head resting on his shoulder while he nuzzled her hair with his cheek. They never spoke during those embraces, neither needing the false platitudes that so often accompanied other forms of comfort. After a few moments Natasha tensed and as she pulled away, Clint let his arms fall away, letting her step just beyond his reach. He offered her a reassuring smile and titling his head slightly, he commented, "You shouldn't be alone tonight."

Natasha nodded absently, wiping the last of the tears away from her eyes. She took a deep sniff and, with a little shake of her head, she straightened up visibly pulling her masks back into place.

"What did you have mind?" she asked softly, her voice only just hinting at the inner turmoil Clint knew she was feeling.

"You could always sleep with me," offered Clint with a cheeky grin. A grin that faded slightly when Natasha cocked a deadly eyebrow at him, "I meant share a bed," he clarified, "You honestly think after all these years I'm going to start hitting on you now?".

Natasha regarded him a moment her eyes narrowing slightly before she asked, "What about..."

"He'll be fine with it," chuckled Clint. He reached up tucking a stray hair behind her ear. Cupping the side of her face he leant in and brushing a simple platonic kiss against her forehead he breathed, "He'll want you there just as much as me. You know how much you mean to both of us."

As he pulled back Natasha offered him a faint smile, it didn't quite reach her eyes but he knew she was tying and that was all that mattered. He put a little more space between them and offering her a warm grin he offered, "Ya never know I might even be able to convince him to make us some of that hot chocolate you fell in love with during the Paris mission."

Natasha gave a very undignified snort and chuckling despite herself she glared fondly at him. Clint grinned even more, loving the slight hint of colour that was working its way back up her face. Natasha took a deep breath and glanced away obviously thinking about his offer. She bit her lower lip then replied, "After my bath, I'll come and see you …"

"No rush," soothed Clint, "Take all the time you need. We're not going anywhere, I promise."

Natasha nodded visibly grateful for the reassurance. She wrapped her arms around herself. It was a subconscious move that tugged at Clint's heart. He hated seeing her so unsure of herself. Resisting the urge to hug her again, he gave her a half salute then turned and head back towards the elevator. As he pushed the button, he paused then glancing back at her, he called, "He was wrong, Tasha." She tilted her chin glaring at him her whole stance instantly stiffening as if waiting for an attack. Clint bit his lower lip but pressed on adding, "The mark, he was so damn wrong."

Natasha stared at him then slowly a smile stole over her face and she blushed –the Black Widow actually blushed. Tucking a stay lock of hair behind her ear she turned and disappeared back into her quarters ordering, "Go to bed, Barton, I'll see you both soon."

"Yes Ma'am," barked Clint grinning broadly as he watched the bedroom door slam shut.

Stepping into the elevator he leant back against the far wall. Hitting the comm unit in his ear, he smirked, "Mission accomplished. Guess that means you're making hot chocolate, Sir."

"So it would seem," replied Coulson in his ear. There was a pause then he sighed and murmured, "I had no idea he said that to her."

"I know," replied Clint nodding despite the fact Coulson couldn't see him. He hated the self-recrimination he could hear in their joint handler's voice and with more empathy than many would think him capable of he soothed, "it wasn't your fault, Sir. But we can make it better."

"Yes," agreed Coulson a soft chuckle warming his voice over the airwaves, "although I still think you only want me therefore the hot chocolate."

"You wound me Sir," smirked Clint before feeling the need to add, "and you know that is so far from the truth it's not funny."

"I know," agreed Coulson an actual chuckle echoing in Clint's ear, "So stop stalling and get yourself back to our quarters. I have hot chocolate to make and you need to find the extra pillows since the three of us are going to be sharing a bed again."

"Sir, yes Sir." grinned Clint feeling very content with himself glad that for once he would get to share his bed with the two most important people in his life. Although a tiny part of him did regret making the mark's death quite so quick and painless. He'd give anything to go back and make him suffer just as much as that single word he had hissed in his final moments had hurt Natasha. Because no one, but no one, hurt Natasha without having to answer to Clint at some point in time.

FIN x


End file.
